Name: Angelo la Croix du Ghede
Age: 22 (at time of Passing, doesn't keep count anymore)
Eyes: Lurid yellow
Appearance: Though dead, it is still easy to see the physical prowess inherent in this corpse's appearance, something carried over from his living days perhaps. His pale green skin is smooth and poreless, reflecting more light than it absorbs but giving off a reflective halo so slight it goes unnoticed unless under close inspection. His face is gaunt and features sharp, giving a severe countenance to a face that may have once been a specimen of great health and power. Despite the stern, cold look of a walking corpse which is the default countenance of one such as he, there is much more variety of expression in his face than initially meets the eye. His grotesque is balanced by a smooth and deep voice, and equally smooth and graceful movements. He moves with purpose and precision. The smell of death does not emanate from him as one would expect. Contrarily, he possesses no scent at all. Around his neck is a small charm depicting a cross upon which a skull in a tophat grins at its center.
Angelo is what some would call "A happy ghost". He is glad to be undead, because it gives him a second chance at life, and at achieving his dreams. It also means that all the little things that could have killed him while he was alive, can no longer do so. Because of this, he often likes to drink and smokes excessively. He goes crazy over incredibly spicy foods, and has a taste for rum laced with hot peppers. A drink too hot for a living tongue to handle. He is not like many undead because of his zest for unlife, and because he doesn't feel the same hatred toward other races that many undead do. He is even impartial to the races of the Alliance, and prides himself in his open-minded spirit even when it is clear others are not the same towards him. He believes that life is what you make it, and unlife is even more so.
Angelo was born in Brill under the watchful eye of midwives and spirits. He was born blind, deaf, and dumb. With the help of a few mages, his blindness was cleared up during adolescence. He was overjoyed at the beauty around him, and saw the world through eyes that appreciated its splendor. His mother, Alice, was also very pleased that her son could finally see, but he still could not hear or speak. When Alice died beneath the hooves of a frightened horse, the only one left who could care for Angelo was his father Dorian.
Dorian was a monstrous fellow. After Alice's death he became a slave to the ale, addicted to drunkeness. He would leave for hours at a time, returning in a state of sheer idiocy, incapable of even making it to the chamber pot. When the Law came to Dorian's home, seeking to punish him for killing a man in Lordaeron, Angelo was duely taken into custody by the city, and dumped into a foster home, a farm in Tirisfal. The man and woman that cared for him were beastly, constantly abusing him and treating him more like an animal slave than a human being. Sometime during this cruelty, he suffered a head injury that brought forth his hearing. He told no one of his new ability to hear, but used it extensively much to his chagrin. He realized the amount of terrible things that came out of the mouths of miserable people. Sometimes he was glad that he could not speak, because if he could it would most likely get him beaten harder than he already was for making common mistakes.
As he grew to adulthood, Angelo became accustomed to his role within his foster parents' household. He was trained, and the need to beat him was no longer necessary because he had been degraded to a point where it didn't matter anymore. Day in and day out, he performed the chores of the home, tended the horses, maintained the structure of the house, built a new barn, worked in the fields, et cetera ad infinitum. He even subjected himself to his foster mother's bed. He no longer fought her advances, and relinquished his body to her hungry, depraved Self without blinking an eye. Nobody could be punished, because Angelo couldn't speak, and as far as they were concerned, he couldn't hear either.
His salvation came in the form of two men from some obscure priesthood. Going door to door like a missionary, spreading the word of their faith, they came upon Angelo's home. The foster parents entertained the men for a time, as Angelo waited for them to leave in his wine-cellar prison. He overheard them speaking of their spirituality, and that they would be staying in Brill for several more nights. As they were about to leave, Angelo was overcome with the desire to be free. These men could help him! They were priests! He didn't want them to go without knowing he existed! He heard them walking towards the door, and had to act quickly. He took a bottle of wine and hurled it at the door leading to the upper portion of the house. They stopped. He wanted to scream, but couldn't of course. They left the home, hearing a lame excuse about rats in the wine cellar. That night he was beaten.
The following day, while tending the horses, Angelo saw one of the missionaries riding on horseback. He took the opportunity to leave the stables and approach the man. Immediately when within grabbing distance, the missionary lashed out and took Angelo by the throat. He gazed into his eyes with an intensity and severity unnatural to a priest of The Light. His throat burned and when released he fell backwards to the ground. The missionary picked him up and put him on his horse. He'd come to realize it wasn't rats in the cellar.
At the Brill Inn, the priest introduced himself as Jack Redleaf. He told Angelo that he wasn't really a missionary, but a mage that was a part of some movement. He encouraged Angelo to speak, but it couldn't be done. There was plenty of time. Angelo stayed with Jack in the inn until the final day, when Jack and his party had to leave. They'd fallen into a sort of love, Angelo and Jack, and the final night they had was... Well, let's just say that it was the time when Angelo spoke his first words. The magic of the mage had flared, rendering its target free at last, and with his new voice Angelo begged for Jack to take him along. His foster parents found him outside the inn, and tried to force him back home. They were horrified to hear him speak, and his rage at seeing them and hearing their voices was so great that he immediately began to scream obscenities and insults and judgements at them. He had planted a seed that eventually grew into a great deal of punishment for the two.
Just as he turned to see Jack leaving on horseback.
He screamed at Jack, running fast behind him. But Jack was too far away at this point, and the sky was growing dark. People started coughing and wretching in the streets. In a matter of minutes there was panic in the air, and over the course of the day, everyone in Brill was dead, including Angelo.
No measure of time was definite in the black sleep that consumed Angelo's soul. He heard voices every now and then, screams and battlecries... Until the day he woke up in a tomb.